History
by Fragorl
Summary: After the necklace is destroyed, Bonnie sits with her diary and thinks about what she has learnt, both from her possession and their reactions. Exploring relationship between Damon and Emily.
1. Chapter 1

'I don't really know what to say to you' (Everything I might have said is clamouring in my head so loudly that I can hardly think, let alone put it into words)

'It has been an eventful night. (An understatement) And it almost turned out to be my last ( Stefan; the only brightness in a world of compressing shadow, as he brings his wrist, glistening to my lips. I understand suddenly what it is Elena sees in him)

One that might have been called a night of power. (Emily conjuring fire) I am alive. I guess that's something. I can still feel the marks on my throat where the vampire bit (she hesitates for a full moment before bringing herself to write that word...vampire) And they will always be there according to Stefan, because his ability to heal is limited by the diet that he had chosen. Strangely he had almost seemed guilty about this. He saved my life. Like I would be worried about a scar. (Compelled she runs her fingers across the mark again) I suppose it will keep me from forgetting. And that is a good thing. I think... (the pen drips ink across the page while she hesitates.)

'But all this is unimportant really. I want to talk to you about Emily. What I saw inside her mind when she possessed me. At first they were fairly general, flashes of the life of an empowered woman living in a vastly different time. Fascinating, but not very relevant, although I did see snatches of a familiar face. I wonder what Elena would have thought if she knew I had imagined her running around in a different century... Still it seems fairly clear that that part was some sort of mental contamination. My familiar memories somehow bleeding into those Emily introduced. Reasonable enough, I suppose. We were both under considerable stress.'

'No. It is the other revelation that surprised me. But then maybe it shouldn't have been really that surprising. (Here she pauses to call up an image of her ancestor's slightly stern face) She did not seem the type to have such an unconventional relationship... But then, after all she was a powerful woman living in a time of great repression. Who would she have turned to, but someone whose world view was likely to be more open?'

'And why else should Damon turn to _her_ to save his loved one? But still so much made sense as I witnessed her past, even as she walked. Hadn't Damon himself, leaning casually against my car promised to receive the necklace back, 'from her hand if not mine?'

There was something there. Perhaps not love, like he had for this Katherine, but something. He had acknowledged it as much as her. He had saved her family, as part of their deal. She had refrained from killing him, even surely knowing his first act would be to rescind, once she had destroyed his way to Katherine...

That stake that pierced his stomach when he threatened her. So telling. I wonder if either of them actually realised. Probably not, maybe it took an outsider to read what was there. Even to spare my life, the future of her descendants that had mattered so much to her, she could not kill him. And then there was him.

Begging, pleading with her, while she destroyed the one thing he needed. She had been genuinely pained by his grief. By the need to go back on her word. And she wanted them to know that she had. That for this, one time, Damon had not been in the wrong.

Even when she vanished and I stood there, in the clearing, confused and staggering. Even as he flew to me, in animalistic fury, I could not really fear him. For one thing, I did not have time. But it was also partly backwash from her feelings. And then he did not kill me. When he could have. So easily. It would in his eyes have made them even.

He couldn't kill me; or he couldn't kill her; her last investment. He is leaving now. He has nothing more here to make him stay, he said this himself. I am glad. I know I could never have felt comfortable if he had stayed. Knowing that he was still around . That he could decide to finish it at any time he wanted. No. It is best that he is gone. And she...she is dead, as she was meant to be, at rest. This is best.

But part of me is glad that I know. A secret, one the others will not guess. A small one, maybe insignificant. He seemed the type to have taken meaningless lovers...but still... There is something romantic, no matter how wrong it turned out, the vampire meeting the embrace of the witch. All those years ago; the history, and still tainting the fallout today.' (Bonnie found her pen shaking, and decided to quickly finish up) 'Anyway, I am going to bed. I feel like I haven't slept forever. The wound might be healed, but that doesn't mean the trauma isn't real. Stefan warned me something about this. That I should get to sleep. I just wanted to write this down. While the knowledge was fresh in my head, so that I wouldn't try to second guess myself later on. Good night! I will write more in the morning Im sure! '


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

He was in a fury. The door to Katherine's room was ajar, and he couldn't remember if she had locked it or he in his anger had forced it open. Probably the former, he thought with bitterness; she has never been one to hide her indiscretions... But the point was not the door, but the room, and the room was empty. He slammed it, hard enough to shake the wood. Damn it! He knew where she was although it killed him to acknowledge it, or for that matter to imagine. The woman he loved finding pleasure in his brother's arms... That it was the other way also, and he had stolen trysts from under Stefan's nose, at that moment seemed not to matter.

There was only the betrayal. That and the anger. Turning away he was shocked to find himself not as alone as he thought. In his irritation it took him a moment to place her and when he did it was only to dismiss her; Katherine's maid. His thoughts were only for the mistress. But she did not move, and did not seem about to, so he treated her with a savage smile. 'Serving you mistress girl? I'm afraid you are neglectful ... you will not find her here.' To his surprise she did not flinch, not at his venom or bitterness. The girl..what was her name? Was clearly confident in her position as Katherine's servant; she did not fear him or his moods as did the other staff.

At another time he might have found this intriguing but for now he was not in the mood. ''I know where my mistress is.' The girl said softly, taking him somewhat by surprise. She had presumed to speak not just as a fact but also he thought with _sympathy_. 'And my name is Emily.' If her directness surprised him, he was hardly in the mood to think about it. 'Well _Emily'_ he told her shortly 'I am sure you have work to do and this is not a place I wish to linger...so...' She moved then, although not immediately. That would have been too much like what he expected he thought with something like bemusement. Instead she looked into his eyes without any sign of deference that he had come to expect from the lower class, and her gaze _burnt_ in a way that he could not describe, as if she had looked into his soul. 'I'm sorry,' she said, and walked away as if he was not still standing there trying not to look bemused. And failing. That was what he would remember next time; it was not often anyone let alone a low born woman got the best of him, yet this Emily had done it effortlessly. But at the time to his shame all he could think of was how he had missed the fact that she was, in her own way, undeniably beautiful.

What she had thought of the encounter he would never know, but he would later suspect that she had shaped it quite deliberately. Not with power, although no doubt that had lent her the confidence and assurance to take him on. Rather with her personality, which was, he would come to know, unique and forceful. For whatever reason she had seen in him something of interest; perhaps even a kindred spirit, although even centuries later he would hesitate to say for sure. At any rate, Damon was intrigued. And later, once he had drunk himself into a stupor and rid himself of his blinding fury he would determine to investigate.

Emily, she was not as much of a presence as he had expected from her performance that last night. In fact she kept a relatively low profile, both amongst the staff and those they served. His subtle inquiries were met for the most part with disinterest and lack of knowledge. She was not loud spoken, he found, but worked quietly and efficiently. When men had attempted to court her, and several had taken interest, she responded with polite disinterest.

Certainly a beauty; her behaviour could not have been more different from the mistress she served. While Katherine took delight in beautiful things and possessed a vanity that was profoundly unladylike, Emily was in all things understated. It was the reason why he, despite his habits towards women, had never noticed her. That and the fact that seen in the same room as her mistress she was eclipsed as is a shadow to the sun.

Still he noticed now, and would freely admit that she intrigued him more than most of the women he involved with. (His feelings for Katherine had not stopped his other interests; if anything it had intensified them; especially on those nights when she refused his company and he sought desperate solace in varied, nameless arms) Now he kept an eye out for her; and came to the conclusion, after failing to bring about a chance meeting with just the two of them, that she must be avoiding him. Why she would do this, after their last conversation he could not think, unless she wished to avoid trouble. Damon had decided that in this instance he had no intention that trouble be avoided.

Still for all his manoeuvring, the next time he encountered her was painfully similar to the first. Katherine gone, as he had known she would be even before he came here, if he was honest with himself. The sight of the two of them laughing over dinner had sickened him to the core. It was just entertainment he had told himself, with a trace of desperation. In the bedroom his little brother could not hope to compare... And yet she was gone, and no doubt engaging in more interesting activities, with the youngest Salvatore. He was standing outside her door, wondering whether he should smash it in, or if he would regret the impulse in the morning. He suspected that he would, but at the same time half a bottle of wine and his rising blood conspired to whisper that it would be satisfying now. He was still considering when he felt a hand rest hesitantly on his shoulder. Half supportive, half restraining, he was not this time surprised to turn and face dark and strangely old brown eyes. 'It will not help,' she told him softly, and perhaps the wine helped so that her instinctive understanding of her thoughts did not seem that unnatural.

Before he had left, choosing to purge his jealousy alone. This time he stayed, moving towards her, so that they were standing intimately close together and her breath felt warm against his cheek. Another thing about Emily that set her apart; she was tall. Not only physically but also in terms of raw power; which gathered about her giving her a persona that was hard to dismiss. Other women he must bend down to, but she was his match. Now the thought was thrilling. She had refused other suitors he knew; but he also knew, with seeming clarity that the same would not hold true to him. She had accepted him and his advance in implication from that first conversation. Now as he moved forwards to kiss her, all he was aware of was a slight frisson of energy, and they were in each others arms. Not love. Not ideal. He knew this as he diverged her of her clothes, and she, with surprising confidence helped him out of his. Not healthy...Except that Katherine was unhealthy, with all her overwhelming beauty and dazzling brightness. Emily did not take pleasure from mind games with men. She was not another stupid fool who mistook brief interest for love. And he was only half surprised to find that he respected her, despite how rarely he felt such an emotion regarding her gender. For a while they moved together; both caught in their own desperate moment. Then it was over, and he stayed with her, although previously Katherine had been the only woman with whom he had had any wish to remain in bed with once the deed was done. Although neither said a word he had left by unspoken agreement just before dawn. Their union, while not so unusual, could have caused her problems had it become known. And he had no wish to cause her problems.

From that time on he had sought her out whenever Katherine was occupied. It had become an unspoken tradition; she would wait for him outside her mistress's chamber, and he would spend his despair comforted in her arms. She knew he loved another. She did not resent it. But both found something to warm them in the nights spent with each other. And although they did not speak of it, she was more to him than any of his other women. He had come to genuinely care about her, and it never stopped being a wonder to him, the spark he could feel in her embrace, that no other in his experience had generated.

'She is a witch,' Katherine had told him one day, when he asked if there was anything unusual about her servant. They were in the gardens, and his arms were filled with flowers which he held on her requirement. 'hmmm, this one,' she pronounced, taking one to wear in her hair. It was white and perfectly formed; and beautiful. 'Quite a powerful one, although she prefers to keep it quiet. She was in some trouble with the local people before she came into my father's service. No doubt she fears a repeat. There are many who are untrusting of the supernatural, when they suspect its existence ' this last was spoken with a sort of dark amusement that he would only come to understand weeks later. For now, he had knowledge and that would be enough.

'A witch,' he had questioned her, the next time she stood waiting for him. Although he would not have spotted it if he hadn't known her so well, he thought she went a little pale. 'Have you enchanted me then, with your powers?' he had walked towards her as he spoke, so that she could not evade his words, and he could read her expression. 'Some spell perhaps? To make me desire you, perhaps set you above the other women who have caught my eye?' They stood close now, face to face, and almost casually he reached up to brush a strand of hair off her face. He watched as the cornered panic turned suddenly to anger, and his arm was thrust away.

'You think that it was difficult, getting your attention?' she asked, with something between bitterness and dark humour. 'Certainly it would not require power of the sort that you imply. Simple intelligence.' He dared fate and brought his fingers back, this time to brush lightly against her cheek. He thought he felt her shudder. She was uncertain though, that he could tell. Witchcraft was a dangerous accusation; and he had the power to be heard. For one of her low standing, particularly if she had been accused before, it could prove fatal. 'Also beauty,' he breathed in her ear, and he thought he felt her tension lift, although it would be a few more meetings before she began to trust him as she had before.

'Show me,' he asked her one night, pressed beside her with one arm spread lazily across her shoulders. She had chastised him for treating something so serious as a toy. But then had whispered a word and almost in one motion his scattered clothes had begun to rise, filling out as if worn by an invisible man. His laughter had been surprised delight and after a moment she had joined it with hers. She was serious, was Emily, but he was sometimes able to draw her out with his own, often mocking humour. They talked more, as time went on. They only lay together on the nights when Katherine was elsewhere but it had become a routine. She had trusted him with her secret, and now finally had someone to confide in besides her mistress.

Despite the constant rejection of Katherine's absence; he had come to strangely look forward their visits.


End file.
